


In So Many Words

by Hikaru R Kudou (suigeneris)



Category: Gravitation
Genre: Drama, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 18:10:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4845326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suigeneris/pseuds/Hikaru%20R%20Kudou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Maybe you don't need to say anything. Maybe you shouldn't say anything."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In So Many Words

* * *

  _"Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind" - Rudyard Kipling_

* * *

 

Yuki Eiri considered himself a novelist. He, and practically entire Japan, if his astounding book sales were anything to go by.  
  
He was no romantic, and the fact that he penned romance novels for a living itself was an irony. Tatsuha did not let the issue drop for weeks when he initially learnt of his brother's work. But still there were times that Eiri allowed himself to be immersed in his writing, particularly in those moments when new ideas struck him and when his deadline loomed near.  
  
There was something captivating in his works, critics had commented once or twice. Not only was the plot appealing, the romance "to die for" (Eiri personally thought of it as nauseating), the characters believable (annoying bunch of fictional morons), the sex "steamy" (...), his books had an extra factor that ensured that they would sell, and sell good. The way he selected his words, how he styled his grammar and nuances, and how he handled cliffhangers - they all accumulated to what in the end everybody agreed to be a page-turner, a bestseller.  
  
Much like artisans and their craftmanships, Yuki Eiri built his stories and presented them as a work of art using mere words.  
  
Perhaps Shindou Shuuichi was not too different in that aspect.  
  
The vocalist of Bad Luck, he used his lyrics to reach their fans and listeners. While he was in charge of the lyrics - let it be said that he did not need Eiri's seal of approval on what 'good lyrics' were supposed to be, hmph! - his bandmates were in charge of the tunes and musical composition. Together they conjured music, songs - where the lyrics and melody blend together to become one, eventually touching your soul. Shuuichi painted the story in his songs, akin to an artist's brushstrokes on a canvas.  
  
The lyrics did not necessarily have to make sense; take it as Shuuichi's own brand of poetic license if you will, although Eiri had scoffed at the mere idea of a pop-star having too much leeway in his work. Many a time Eiri had deplored the manner in which Shuuichi had just thrown grammar rules out of the window in favour of making sure the wordings fit the background music, while the rest of the time Eiri could only stare speechlessly at the scribbles that Shuuichi had tried to pass as lyrics, simply because he had not the faintest idea what was going on in that pink-haired's head and what he was trying to convey.  
  
Today, he happened to be doing exactly that.  
  
In response, Shuuichi had pouted comically and grabbed the paper, shoving it into the depths of his pocket. He yelled something at Eiri, stomped out of the studio and slammed the door shut behind him.  
  
K let out a long and heavy sigh. Well, there went that.  
  
To be fair, Bad Luck did go platinum, won a few awards, performed live in concerts, that should mean that they were good, shouldn't it?  
  
Eiri snorted when K pointed out this particular reality. "Sure," the writer blew his cigarette smoke lazily, "but not everybody can appreciate quality even when it's staring right in his or her faces."  
  
Here Shuuichi had barged in yet again, obviously having heard his boyfriend's statement after eavesdropping from beyond the door, eager to deliver a comeback, "Our albums sell well! As long as our fans like our songs, then so be it!"  
  
Sakano was cringing in his seat at the sight of a lovers' war breaking out right in front of him. Whose idea was it again to get Yuki Eiri into the studio just to help Shuuichi come out from another of his dumps? While at first it went well with Shuuichi latching on to the blond, lamenting about how he was out of inspirations and his lyrics came out all wrong and how he mistakenly used Hiroshi's mug earlier because he was just that depressed he could not tell one thing from another and how it was unfair that Eiri never seemed to suffer from writer's block, Eiri obviously was not too ecstatic to be made the human scratching post for everyone to see.  
  
"You write gibberish," Eiri replied monotonously.  
  
Now this was nothing new, K noted: Eiri made it known that he rarely thought highly of Shuuichi's lyrical prowess, but today it seemed that his acerbic words had cut into Shuuichi much deeper than usual. The proverbial all hell breaking loose, so to speak.  
  
Hence the door-slamming, round two. Shuuichi was gone, for real this time.  
  
Suguru sighed heavily. "Great going, we're obviously never going to get any job done today."  
  
Hiroshi plucked on his guitar absent-mindedly. "Maybe we should try flipping through the dictionary randomly and see if anything comes up."  
  
"Please tell me you are kidding, because I might actually do it."  
  
Hiroshi shrugged. "You're welcome to try." He glanced at Yuki Eiri. "Shouldn't you chase after him?"  
  
Eiri glared at the long haired guitarist, exasperated. "And say what?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know. You do this lovers' spat so often, you tell me."  
  
Eiri's eyebrows twitched ever so slightly.  
  
K cleared his throat. "Maybe you don't need to say anything. Maybe you _shouldn't_ say anything."  
  
Eiri gave him an incredulous look; he obviously thought K had lost his mind.  
  
The American massaged his forehead, sensing an incoming headache. "Yeah, don't say anything, because whatever you say will likely ruin everything else. Just... _do_ something."  
  
Eiri was about to retort in the most sarcastic manner he could think of, but K had unfolded his arms, giving him a good view of his holstered revolvers, as if challenging him to argue further. Eiri gritted his teeth, snubbed his cigarette on the ashtray, and walked out to search for Shuuichi.

A few moments passed in silence. Even Hiroshi had stopped tinkering with his guitar.  
  
"K-san," Suguru deadpanned. "You do realise that you just gave them the green light to make out like bunnies in the office building? In _our_ office building?"  
  
Sakano had paled at the notion, making no move to correct his crooked spectacles. "W-What!? But we work here! When you said 'do something' you actually meant for Yuki-san to _do_ Shuuichi--"  
  
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," K interrupted quickly. K had always seen himself as a man of action; After all, his collection of firearms would be a testament to that. He let himself fall to his chair languidly. "Geez, for two people who're supposed to be a prolific writer and a popular songwriter, their communication skills sure suck."

 

* * *

 


End file.
